hope shines Written by Ellen Grace Olinger country graves silk flowers bloom by the stones colder Spring yet the snowdrops twice as many hope shines on the hillside a few daffodils Image: wpclipart.com. Like this:Like Loading... 12 thoughts on “hope shines” Lovely trio, Ellen. Beautiful. I appreciate your writing. Hurrah for daffodils. ~Lori LikeLike I like the photo on your header. LikeLike THANK YOU – and I’m always honored when one of my posts is reblogged. Ellen LikeLike Such a lovely scene. LikeLike Lovely and true, Ellen. I just got back from visiting my mother in southeastern Kansas. We took long stems of white silk tulips for the urns on each side of my dad’s headstone. There we were, snowflakes floating around us as we placed the silk flowers. My dad would have loved it. LikeLike Dear Marilyn, What a lovely gift. That is a lot for you to do too. My drives to be with my mother were shorter, though I often took the country roads. The beauty and quiet gave me strength. I know from your posts what a blessing these visits with your mother are, and you must be helping many readers. Ellen LikeLike Thank you, Ellen, for the kind words. These visits help me, too. Like you, the drive to and from my monthly visits with my mother calm me and give me strength. From Colorado to southeast Kansas and back is 1,300 miles, so I have many hours to think. The back roads side trips take me by my mother’s favorite country scenes, so even when she doesn’t know me, I already feel as though we’ve connected. We do the best we can to stay connected to those we love. LikeLike I like “colder spring.” Very thoughtful, Ellen. Haiku is therapeutic, I find. Best, Charlotte LikeLike Dear Charlotte, Thank you, and I feel the same way about haiku. Ellen LikeLike What a peaceful, lovely site. A refuge for poets and artists. Keep writing, Ellen, and share your gifts. Charlotte LikeLike Dear Charlotte, Thank you so much for your encouragement, and for the many ways you share your gifts. Ellen LikeLike I just deadheaded the daffodils around my garden, which made me sad. They were absolutely glorious this spring, but ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.’ Their memory lives on … in poetry that breathes as sweetly as yours. LikeLike Comments are closed.